Suck Me While I Sleep
by Meowbowwow
Summary: So, basically, John finds Sherlock having a sorta wet dream and sucks him off while the detective still sleeps. That's about it, yeah. PWP. Mature readers only.
1. Chapter 1

The man sprawled on the sofa, naked under his new heliotrope dressing gown and sleeping with his mouth open drew John Watson to the edge of insanity every day. Sometimes, because of his antics and at other times, like now, because of his ability to turn John on without even doing anything. Sherlock Holmes was a gorgeous man and he didn't quite know HOW much pain he caused to John's, erm, rather private regions when he looked so decadent without even taking an effort. And the balls of him (metaphorically!) to sleep with his legs spread out like he was almost inviting John to...no, NO. John smacked himself mentally and yet, the image of smacking Sherlock's plush arse lodged itself into his mind and refused to go away.

Well, John Watson wasn't a soldier for nothing. Sherlock rarely slept and it would have been the height of selfishness to wake him up because his doctor's penis had supposedly aged backwards and become an over exuberant hormonal teenager. John was also a firm believer in the magical properties of tea (and a good cold shower if tea didn't solve problems like these but let's not talk about that) and that is what he did. He tore his gaze away from the pale figure, the gown sliding off one shoulder revealing a rather pale neck and a fading love bite on the clavicle, sparse hair peeking from under the satin of the gown and oh, Sherlock smelled like tea and maybe, John could have him instead and..NO, JOHN WATSON GET A GRIP ON YOURSELF!

He physically walked himself away from the sight and took deep calming breaths as he put the kettle on boil. As he waited for it, he could swear he heard a groan, and not just any groan but Sherlock's groan. He berated his mind for being so filthy, shame on it. And then it happened again- a low rumble and a soft groan and God save John Watson, he could have come right there and then. But, as mentioned earlier, John is nothing if not strong. He chanced a glance out and what he saw actually shook his own belief in the idea that God was good and was not out there to get him.

Sherlock was still sleeping in the same position except for the fact that now, the gown was off both his shoulders, he had slid down a little and..,well, he had an erection which was being softly thrust in the air. How could a man get such a raging hard-on in a few minutes was well beyond the expertise of John Watson. The tea could drink itself because John's mouth watered for something much more...stronger. And longer. And thicker. John would have thrown his brain a reproachful look for coming up with those pathetic adjectives had he not felt sorry for the poor chap's loss of blood at that moment.

John would forever blame Sherlock Holmes for what he did that day because at that precise moment, Sherlock purred, yes, he actually purred and gripped his fingers on the arm-rests while he still thrust in the air without any thought of what it might be doing to people around him. However, these things which would have killed any other man weren't John Watson's undoing. What actually did it for our dear doctor was the fact that Sherlock actually said, "Oh John, yesss..." and as the last syllable of that 'yes' vibrated in John's skull and his own erection gave him a *nudge nudge wink wink*, John decided that it was time to take matters into his own hands (_or mouth_, his brain supplied. _Shut up_, John retaliated but followed it's advice nonetheless).

He kneeled in between Sherlock's legs and looked up at his lover's still hard and surprisingly, still sleepy form. Sherlock gripped the couch harder and rutted in the air, giving small breathy moans as he slid down the couch further, thereby putting his erection at an eye level for John Watson (as if he needed that). John had to do it, it is a miracle that he controlled himself for so long. When he opened his mouth around the head and Sherlock chose that moment to push forward with his hips, he knew that God was back to being a good entity.

John swallowed the entire length in one smooth motion, the angle being perfect for him and unzipped his own trousers. He actually groaned as his erection sprung free and he could actually see the head wet with pre-cum. Oh, what this man does to me, John sighed as Sherlock purred again. He was still not awake and it wasn't that hard for John to believe that he wasn't fibbing. While lesser mortals would have woken up to a warm groaning mouth around their cock, Sherlock Holmes was a class apart. He either refused to sleep for days or slept like he was dead.

As John flattened his tongue on the underside and ran it along _that_ vein, Sherlock gasped as his fingers dug inside the couch. John started sucking very lightly at first because absurd and filthy that this was, John hadn't been so turned on in his life and he and Sherlock had some rather great adventures in the bedroom, so that was saying a LOT and he didn't want it to end so soon. Or he did. _Oh, to hell with it_, John mused. He sucked on the head for a bit and ran the tip of his tongue against the slit, dipping it ever so lightly inside it as he thumbed over his own head. As Sherlock arched his back again and John let the head hit the back of his throat, he gave his own cock a pull, flicking his wrist in the end and groaned deeply. Sherlock shivered as he felt the groan and John could taste pre-cum in his mouth.

With his lips still around Sherlock's length, he was sure if he could see himself right now, he would have been embarrassed. This was the filthiest thing he had ever done, hands down. Well, not really down because as he stroked himself and timed his bobbing and sucking with the strokes, he brought his other hand up and played with Sherlock's balls, stroking them and tugging at them as Sherlock positively mewled with want, his eyes still closed. He established a rhythm, stroking once and then sucking twice, thrice and then changing the tempo. He could feel that Sherlock was close, very very close as he pumped his own erection hard and bobbed faster, harder, grunting every now and then from pleasure and exertion.

He felt it before it actually happened, Sherlock took a deep breath and his brows were knitted together, beads of sweat shining on his forehead and dripping down his face as he cried, "Oh, oh, oh, John...yes!" and spilled out, inside John, groaning, his baritone so deep and gorgeous, and John continued sucking him, drinking everything in. Some come dribbled off the side of his mouth and on to Sherlock's thighs and he wiped it off with his sleeve.

Now, after giving such a good blowjob to someone, one expects some applause and John actually expected Sherlock to wake up at that moment and tell him that he was actually awake during the entire performance and would like to pay back (weren't we all?). However, nothing of the sort happened, the man kept sleeping with his hands over his thighs now and John, still kneeling between his legs, decided that he will have to finish himself. It didn't take a lot of time because the image of Sherlock, positively debauched and still asleep, writhing and moaning his name even in his sleep was enough for our doctor to come hard, harder than he ever had.

He dragged himself to sit on his chair as he cleaned himself. He wouldn't clean Sherlock, whatever little cleaning he required, because he might be tempted again but mainly because he wanted Sherlock to wake up and see the hint of come on his thighs and deduce his way into the fantasy that John Watson had lived. He could actually see Sherlock's brain working – _if he had, in fact, had a wet dream, why no dried semen? _Then his eyes would travel to his thighs- _why only a hint of dried semen, where's the…rest? Had John cleaned him up? How could John miss the obvious spot? Why hadn't he woken up? _It would be fun, John mused as he decided that he would, after all, have that tea.

**Let me know if you find any typos or anything. I used a filthy title for a filthy fic to ensure more filthiness :P  
xoxo**  
**Meow**


	2. Chapter 2

Don't be absurd - SH

I am not being absurd, Sherlock. I am telling you how it was - JW

It can't be - SH

And yet, and yet... - JW

Stop it. It is not possible. I would have woken up, at least when I climaxed - SH

Maybe I sexed you into a coma :D :D :D XD - JW

John grinned as he typed the message and added the emoticons just to annoy Sherlock. The day at the surgery had been tiring but John was as fresh as ever, mainly because he spent the entire time texting Sherlock about the, erm, activities of the previous week and got to witness the hitherto unseen phenomenon of a clueless Sherlock Holmes.

The reason why this conversation had come up was because Sherlock had been working on a case which was, even by Sherlock's standards, a bit complicated. He had come back from the Yard in the afternoon and was throwing words like "stupid", "common" and "people" but then he added the phrase "take yourself, for example" and John had to one-up him. At all costs. He had to admit that Sherlock's reaction had been better than expected and he was also happy to know that the dried semen on his thighs had bothered him so much that he had wondered about it between the case too. All in all, it was a good day for a certain John Watson.

"Well, not anymore," someone high above the clouds or rather, deep inside the earth smirked as John dragged his tired but smug self to 221B. Sherlock wasn't around and the kitchen was clear of experiments, for a change. So, this meant that he had finally bowed down to the requirements of his body and was sleeping in their bedroom. John took a shower and contemplated whether he should just watch some TV or get a nap. The day had been quite tiring and the latter option eventually won.

John removed his clothes and crept into Sherlock's room where the detective was sleeping with the duvet wrapped around his midsection. John could see his bee pants peeking out from the side. John felt a certain something stir between his legs but he was too tired to have monologues with his dick at that moment and chose to give it the silent treatment. Sherlock had his arms spread out at an awkward angle and John slept on the other side of the bed, sighing when his tired body finally hit the mattress.

If this was someone else's life, they would have had a good sleep and would've woken up fresh and satiated, probably have a quickie with their lover and then have some dinner. However, this was John Watson and nothing ever goes right with him, especially after a certain Sherlock Holmes entered his life (not that John was complaining).

As the sweet and warm arms of sleep gently enveloped our beloved doctor and he was just drifting away, Sherlock turned in his sleep and displayed his pert ass for John Watson's service. When people use the words "Sherlock" and "ass" in a sentence, there is always "pain in the" between them. However, John Watson, who has a considerable authority on the subject would tell you that on more occasions than one, he has used "and his gorgeous" between those two words and he is not ashamed of it. No sir, he isn't.

Now, it has been stressed before but it has to be repeated that John Watson is a man with a strong will power but men greater than him have been rendered speechless by that ass. So, when John opened his eyes a little when the bed moved and Sherlock turned around, he realised two things. One, Sherlock's sheet had finally found relief and was now scrunched under him. Two, his fucking gorgeous ass, though covered with his pants, was beckoning him with a velvety voice. As John's sleepy form tried to make sense of the new developments, Sherlock shifted and bent his left leg to extend it to his side, resulting in him landing on his stomach and John waking up cursing every deity he knew because "that fucking ass".

A little John with horns landed on John's belly smirking, "He didn't wake up last time, why would he wake up now?" The other John with a halo around his head gently floated near his ear and whispered, "Don't do it, let him sleep. Don't listen to him."

"Maybe, I could just do it again and wake him. Then he'll have to believe me, right?" John whispered, but the devil John was already bouncing off Sherlock's ass and giggling wildly.

John brought his face level with Sherlock's ass and pulled the bee pants down, cursing that such a lanky frame could have such a perfect ass and thanking that he was one who had it to himself. Letting the pants bunch around Sherlock's knees, he gave the sculpted ass his full attention. His erection sang "Hallelujah" as he pulled his own pants down and took it in his hand. He then gently ran his tongue along the crack as Sherlock squirmed a little but didn't wake up.

This was their favourite part of foreplay (even while awake) and not only Sherlock but even John liked rimming, enjoying his always controlled lover's pleadings and sighs, his utter beauty when he lost it, John loved everything about it. However, things could get a little complicated while one of them was asleep but small issues like these never got John down, he was tough, our doctor was. After biting on the flesh and sucking on it, he separated the cheeks gently and circled the hole and boy did Sherlock move. He started off by writhing a little but then started rutting against the mattress earnestly, as John dipped his tongue into the hole and flicked it in a way he knew always worked on the genius. Sherlock moaned into his pillow and John continued his assault, realising that his own erection was feeling quite abandoned.

As he turned around, stretching his hands up to look under the mattress, Sherlock turned around swiftly with his face in John's groin, nuzzling. YES, POSITIVELY NUZZLING his balls. Life seemed to be suspended in midair as John's hands searched for the lube sachet under the mattress, the distraction being that Sherlock's cock that was *very* close to his cheek and the smell of arousal and everything Sherlock and "Oh dear God, this man will kill me one day," John thought as he finally found the lube.

But right then, any requirements of lube were rendered null and void. Sherlock, not content with nuzzling and driving John insane, darted his tongue out and licked a broad stripe along the length of John's erection as John tried not to make a sound. He then opened his mouth and the audacity of the man, he wrapped it around the head and started sucking on it, like a child being nursed and John would never be able to get the image out of his head as Sherlock hollowed his cheeks and started giving what books would describe as the perfect blow job (and minstrels would write songs about, in John's opinion). As John shifted and turned around to give Sherlock a better angle, he also realised that this was the perfect 69 Sherlock had been pestering him to try. Damn the man, he got what he wanted (even if he wasn't quite conscious during the said requests).

As John found it hard to contain his moans, he took Sherlock's entire length in one go and groaned against the head as Sherlock wrapped his arms around his waist and thrusted in his mouth. John would later remember and laud himself on his control when he pushed away the urge to fuck that beautiful mouth and let Sherlock continue sucking. As he used his hand to stroke his lover's balls and the perineum, Sherlock moaned against the head, which was so close to his throat that John's eyeballs rolled in his head and he sucked harder, bobbing his head, sensing that Sherlock was close.

Sherlock made a low sound and dug his fingers in John's thighs, opening his mouth and throwing his head back, so that John's erection was freed from the glorious warmth and he made a disappointed sound. It took him a few bobs to finish as Sherlock came with a deep throated moan of John's name. John lapped it all up, stroking him gently as he rode the aftershocks and sleep seemed to float away, finally waking up and those brilliant grey eyes looking at the awe-inspiring scene in front of them.

"Oh my god..." Sherlock whispered as he looked at John with wide eyes and John grinned madly. "I told you," he said as he got up to clean Sherlock with his red pants. "I- what..." Sherlock still looked flabbergasted and tried to get up but John pushed him down and grabbed his lips, shutting him up.

"It's okay, no really. You sleep like a log and it's fine with me because I get to do stuff to you when you're asleep," John grinned against his lips.

"Would you be willing to assist me in experimenting with this very interesting trait of mine, John?" Sherlock murmured, his eyes already faraway like they were when he thought hard about something as John kissed his beautiful neck.

"Mmm, okay, but right now, I need your assistance and since, you're up I was thinking that maybe..." he pointedly rubbed his erection against Sherlock's as he sucked on his neck and made the detective moan.

"Always glad to be of assistance, John. You know me, I am a helpful soul" Sherlock smirked as John found the lube packets on the floor and tore them, slicking his fingers copiously.

"We did the 69, you know," John murmured in Sherlock's ears as pushed his finger inside him and Sherlock breathed audibly. "And it was good, we should try it again someday," John licked the shell knowing how it was a particular weakness of Sherlock's as he pushed another finger in. "I guess the results would be better for me if you're awake. I'll make sure of it the next time we do it," he nibbled on the lobe and sucked on it as he scissored his fingers and Sherlock's moans filled the room and everything in John's head disappeared in that beautiful sound. "But not today," he entered the third finger and Sherlock was utterly debauched by now, sweaty and looking so sinfully decadent. "Today. . . .scream" John whispered in his ear, punctuating every word with a brush against his prostate.

"Oh god, John...please… fuck, John." Sherlock found John's lips and sucked on his tongue. John withdrew his fingers and muttered, "No, fuck Sherlock," as he slicked himself and lined himself, drawing his knees up and planting a small kiss on top, entering Sherlock gently.

He started slowly as Sherlock almost sobbed with pleasure, asking John to go harder and faster. Our doctor didn't need to be told twice as he changed his pace. Soon, he was fucking Sherlock harder, hitting his prostate again and again as the detective writhed under him. He knew he wouldn't last long but he wanted Sherlock to come before him. "Come for me, love," he said and Sherlock took his erection in his hands. Barely a few tugs and Sherlock was coming hard for the second time that evening and as John felt him clench around him, he let go and screamed many oh-fuck-Sherlock's and came. The blissful emptiness of the mind and Sherlock's breath in his hair, his graceful hands stroking his back, John wanted nothing but to freeze this moment, freeze it till none of them could move, not even time.

As he pulled out and slumped next to him, Sherlock's warm arms were around him, kissing his face and caressing his sides. Sherlock was always tender post coitus and John enjoyed this side of him as much as he enjoyed the pain in the ass one. He let himself be kissed on the cheek and neck as Sherlock tucked his head under his chin and sighed deeply in his hair.

"So, when can we begin our experiments?" Sherlock-I-am-an-expert-of-post-coital-chats-Holmes breathed in John's ear, and never had someone been so businesslike after being shagged senseless. John smiled to himself, deciding that not answering the question now was the best answer and drifting off to sleep.

**PS - This is for otala, That one person, sana-chan9, imsherlylocked, who demanded a sequel. It went somewhere else and didn't actually turn like what I was expecting, but well, they never do XD. I hope you liked it. Please let me know if there are any typos and I will be glad to rectify them. **


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